


The Wicked Divine

by gayeggs



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 1700s Au, AU, F/F, Humanstuck, Salem, Supernatural Elements, Witches, rosemary, salem 1700s, theyre witches and theyre gay, warning for mild gore/blood/scary things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayeggs/pseuds/gayeggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are not a witch.<br/>You are not a witch.<br/>You are not a witch.<br/>But are you completely sure of that?<br/>-----<br/>A Rosemary fic set in 1700's Salem. This soup includes: witches, accusations, darkness, death, and your average dosage of gay.<br/>Aight, probably more than average.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your last hope diminishes as the lock clanks into place.

Your eyes widened, searching, the cell bars casting giant shadows across the cramped room. You see the back of a burly man walking away, keys dangling from his belt loop, and you’ve never felt more cold in your life.

Wrapping your arms around your torso, taking laboring breaths, you drag yourself to the corner, curling in on yourself. You feel your nails biting into your arms, the dampness of the prison cell walls coating your skin, and you want to scream but you bite your tongue forcefully to keep it in. They can’t know that you are suffering. They can’t know that you are weak. You are strong. You are sane. You are human.

You are not a witch.

You are not a witch.

You are not a witch.

The shadows stretch across your eyes, and you glance out of the cell door. The town square is directly in front of you, the moonlight illuminating the statue of the founder of Salem, Roger Conant.

You could feel his eyes glaring at you accusingly from under his bronze hat, coats frozen in the ever-blowing wind. 

You hated that statue. 

You clench your teeth, shutting your eyes. Your head felt like it would explode, your chest heaving even when you tried to control your breath. Your nose was a mess of snot, tears still streaming out of your eyes, but by now they just felt empty. Numb.

You lowered your head into your lap and tried to count down from 100. With each number, your clutch on your arm tightened until you felt warm blood pool beneath your fingertips. Soon you heard yourself start to speak out loud rather than in your head. Your own voice seemed to bring comfort to your ears. At least it was one thing you were familiar with. One thing you had any control over.

“Eighty-nine. Eighty-eight. Eighty-seven. Eighty-six _kanaya_ Eighty-five. Eighty-four. Eighty- _unlockthedoor_ three. Eighty-two ** _standup_** Eighty-one ** _lookatme_** Eighty ** _kanaya_**.”

The grip on your arm loosens. You take a long breath out, and behind it, a whisper.

“ _Kanaya_ ,”

You jerk your head up, searching the room. Everything was dark. You squint your eyes, trying to see through the bars of the prison cell, but there was nothing. The shadow of the statue loomed over the small space. You furrow your brows. Listen.

 _“Stand up, Kanaya.”_ A voice as light as the wind breaths. It was so silent, yet you could hear every word. It seemed to echo in your head.

You tilt your head to the side, waiting. No other words came. You run your hands through your hair, taking in a sharp breath. You feel your bones shake as you struggle to lift up your legs.

Eventually, you stand up, straightening your back, feeling your joints crack. Your whole body aches, and there are bruises all over your arms and legs. You close your eyes and collect yourself for a few moments, then look around.

Your head almost touches the wooden roof, and you spot holes through it. You know what’s located above you, though, and you jerk your eyes away. You feel vomit in your throat, but force it down. You are not cracking anytime soon.

You slowly make your way to the bars, peering out. 

No townsfolk seemed to be out this late at night, except for scragglers and beggars. The occasional maid hurried across the square, trying to stay away from the drinking men on the corners and in the alleyways. 

Although no matter how many people were out, no eyes turned your way.

You can’t really blame them.

The wind blows, and with it, the feathery voice. It was as soft and smooth as violet, thick as maple, yet still silent and steady. You trusted this voice. 

 _“Hello Kanaya,”_ It spoke.

It seemed to be in your ear, so you turn around suddenly. The cell wall is the only thing visible.

You turn to your other side, and see nothing as well.

You hear a small amused laugh. A nice laugh. 

 _“I’m not really here. If we’re being completely blunt, I’m residing in your head,”_ You hear, it drifting through your mind like music. The little amused laugh sounds again, before a soft, _“Temporarily.”_

You think nothing of the meaning of their words, encaptured by the voice.You circle around the room, searching searching searching.

 _“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll take on a form for you.”_ You hear. _“Although, you won’t blame me if you won’t be able to recognize me, right?”_ The wind picked up, and you wrap your arms around yourself for warmth as the voice continues, _“It’s only protocol.”_

The wind sounded like breathing in your ears, blowing your ragged petticoat around, hair flying in your face. You squint your eyes as a bright source of light hits your face directly in front of you, and you feel your knees buckle.

The light suddenly resides, the darkness consuming the cell once again. 

Although you don’t feel alone.

You take a deep breath, and tear open your eyes, peering through the cell bars.

A shadowy figure stands right in front of you, separated only by brass and stone.

The figure was shaped like a normal person, and you could tell it should be, but it isn’t quite. Darkness and tar seeped throughout the occupied space, tangling around like tendrils. It stood still, yet it was constantly moving, sifting through your vision, constantly changing, never quite there yet it seems as if it were there forever.

You know you should have felt fear. You should have felt terrified by this being, this beast of darkness, this total form of evil. This is what you’ve been warned of your whole live, the exact thing everyone claims to be real and wreak havoc on this town. 

But you didn’t feel contempt. You didn’t feel scared.

You didn’t know what you felt, but you certainly weren’t afraid.

That was what scared you.

The dark form’s hand, or what you assumed was it’s hand, lifted and rested on a bar. The bar immediately turned dark and cold, the tendrils consuming it. You jerked backwards and watched in awe as the bars separating you from the world, separating you from life, slowly seemed to become almost non-existant. They became so dark that they were borderline invisible. 

You hesitantly reached a hand out, seeing the dark figure shift from the corner of your eye, feeling for the bar.

Your fingers hit something cold, but it didn’t have the solid consistency of brass. Instead, it felt more like thick gel, like a plasma. Your hand slowly passes through the gelatinous texture of what used to be the bar, and a rush of adrenaline shoots through your spine.

You glance up at the figure, and you swear it smiled at you.

The shadowy silhouette floated gently away from the bars, and they returned back to normal, the darkness seeping out. You reached out and touched it again, and it was back to a solid form.

 _“You see,”_ The voice crawled up your spine. _“You can escape. I can help you.”_

You trusted the voice, truly. But something struck you suddenly. You weren’t sure what it was. You furrow your brows, and look down at the lock on the cell door.

“I can help myself.” You speak aloud. Your voice was much too rough and scratchy than you would have liked, your throat aching. 

The figure laughed that light, bell-sounding laugh of theirs. It carried through the room as light as air.

_“Of course you can. You have power.”_

You looked at the figure, mouth thin. “I have no power. I'm normal. I am not a witch.”

The figure hummed in response. A billowy shadow curled towards you, and you took an instinctive step back. Before you could protest, it floated over and caressed your cheek. You could feel the biting cold nibbling at your face before it pulled back, disappearing with the rest of the darkness.

 _“If you say so.”_ It replied. 

You knit your brows together, and stare at the figure with offense. It seemed to stare right back at you.

What did It mean by that? Was It implying something?

You know you aren’t a witch. 

You never were, nor ever will be.

Yet everyone in this town seems to think otherwise.

Whatever happened back in the chapel was a series of unexplained events. Coincedental events, perhaps, but unexplained nonetheless. You had nothing to do with it.

You are not a witch.

You are not a witch.

_You are not a witch._

But are you completely sure of that?

You clench your teeth and glance up at the ceiling once more. The weathered wood seemed like it was rotting, but you knew it was sturdy. It had to be.

You thought you spotted a blood stain before you wretched your head back to the figure.

 _“You have to leave now,”_ It whispered. _“You know that. If you try any later, you are going to die.”_

A hot feeling of dread rushed through your nerves. You knew. This really is your only chance.

The dark mass of shade reaches out once more, though this time you could make out an indistinct hand, five smooth and dark fingers curling towards you. Whispers escaped It's whole outline, soothing mumurs, undertones of safety in the darkness. This wasn’t danger. This was security.

You reach your hand out, and you watch as the darkness engulfs your fingers. Biting coldness pinches your skin, but you feel nothing. 

The figure leads your hand to the lock in the door, slowly and gently. Your fingers wrap around the metal padlock, the whispers becoming louder, more intent. They seemed to scream into your ear muted encouragements and praise, and you hesitate. This just seemed to make the shadows voices louder.

Your teeth clench, obsidian coils floating through your hair, breathing down your skin, twisting and curling around your whole body, and it took all of your strength to not scream out.

Instead of screaming, you lift your head and glare straight towards the shadowy figure through the hundreds of dark streams. 

It stared straight back.

You did not break your gaze. You glared steady and strong. All of your strength seemed to pour out with it.

The tendrils recoiled, soon all retreating back into the single shadowy mass. The whispering became quieter.

Moments passed. Your hand was still gripped around the lock, and the figure seemed to be getting farther away.

The figure of darkness stayed completely still for a few long, long minutes. And just before it disappeared completely, a pair of dark and inky purple eyes winked at you from inside the stygian beast.

And then it was gone.

The lock suddenly clicked out of place, and it fell to the floor with a loud clank.

Your eyes never left the spot where the darkness had once been, the statue looming over your cell like a grim reminder.

A reminder that you can never come back here. Nothing will ever be the same again.

You are not a witch.

The cell door creaks open.

Are you?

 

 

 

 

  


	2. Chapter 2

It was a few hours after your schooling was over for the season when the mysterious girl moved into town.

You and your friends huddled out of the wooden chapel doors, and down the steps, making your way to the town square. Tradesmen, craftsmen, businesspeople and maids were running around, doing their respective businesses like they always do, and townspeople were walking in and out of houses and shops. 

Salem wasn’t a very big town, but it wasn’t small either, and it certainly was thriving. The Reeve, or the head of the village, was constantly boasting about how great everything was, and how it would just keep getting greater. 

People from all over the world came to trade, buy, sell, and stay in the village, and things were fine.

Your own life, in your opinion, was average. You had a mother, an older sister, and many cousins. Your dad worked overseas and hadn’t been back since you were young, but you weren’t really opposed to that. That was the case for most kids here, anyway.

You were middle class, doing pretty well as your mother owned a seamstress shop simply called “Maryam’s.” It has an overall good reputation, and you’ve even heard some people say that it’s the best seamstress shop in town. You worked there with your mother as well, her teaching you tips and tricks on how to sew certain things, and you feel like you’ve gotten abundantly better. Recently, you’ve been sewing some townsfolk’s dresses on your own, and you feel particularly proud of yourself. Your sister, Porrim, helps occasionally, also working as a frequent sunday school teacher. 

But, secretly, after classes, she would huddle up young and teen girls behind the chapel to teach them about "being a woman." 

It was very hush-hush, since, as she puts it, “Society is blinding all of us females to how we need to live; we have to learn things men don’t, even though they certainly should learn too; it’s up to me to teach these young girls about their own bodies and that they shouldn’t subject to anyone.” 

You were the only one besides your mother who knew. You were all certain that if the village officials found out, your sister would get in big trouble. They don’t want women learning about themselves. They find it easier to push them around if they’re ignorant. Things were very tightly knit. 

Maybe one day.

You were almost of age which means that you’re, unfortunately, subjectable to marry soon, but, to be honest, you didn’t really want to. It didn’t appeal to you in the slightest to be married to a man who would most likely work overseas as a tradesman or craftsman, having to stay in the house all day and keep after everything. The thought of living like that made you cringe. Your mother certainly didn’t seem happy living like this, for the matter. You knew she was accepting of you not getting married to any of the men in this village, but you weren’t so sure about the officials. One day, they might make you, and that scared you. 

You hope it won’t come to that.

“Kanaya!” A voice called to you, pulling you out of your reverie. You glance towards the sound of the voice, and see someone running towards you, coming out of the cemetery.

You recognized Aradia immediately as she adjusted her bonnet up, stopping in front of you and your other friends, taking laboring breaths but smiling nonetheless. 

She greeted everyone currently around you, which included Karkat Vantas, a short and hot-headed boy with a big heart, Jade Harley, tall and bubbly as ever, and Terezi Pyrope, the daughter of the most well-known lawyer in town. They all smiled and waved back as Aradia pushed hair out of her face.

Her hands were dirty and lathered in mud, her hair wild, with loose curls blowing in every direction. Her frock was also full of dirt and grass stains, but none of you were particularly surprised. She spent most of her time outside, digging in the dirt. She frequently visited the graveyards, as odd as it was, but you’ve learned not to judge her. She’s herself, and she was a great person anyway.

“Look what I just found, you guys!” She exclaimed, then held her hand out to reveal a small skull the size of her palm.

“Jeez, Aradia, thats so creepy,” Karkat griped, scowling down at the skull. “What even is that?”

Aradia grinned and replied, “I think it’s a rat skull! It was hidden under some shrubs by the big oak tree in the graveyard. It took me a while to dig it out, and there was a bit of decay still on it, but I think I cleaned it off well enough.” She held the rat skull up to her eyes proudly and examined it, poking it occasionally, a huge smile on her face. You saw dirt beneath her fingernails and sighed.

“Aradia, you should go clean up,” You suggest. “You’re absolutely filthy. My mother could clean your clothes for you again, if you want.”

Aradia shrugged. “I don’t know. I might go back in a few minutes. I just wanted to show you guys my new little buddy!” She tickled the top of the rats skull, and you could hear Karkat comically gag behind you. You also heard both Terezi and Jade hitting him on his arms to shut up.

Aradia gasped suddenly and looked around. “Ooh, where’s David? I want to show him this, I think he would like it.”

“Of course he would,” Karkat scoffed. Terezi and Jade hit him again.

“Aradia, earlier he mentioned something about food, and didn’t follow us out of the chapel, so he might be at a vendor’s?” Jade supplied. 

“Ah,” Aradia replied, then lifted her skirts a bit with her free hand, starting to walk forward. “I’ll try to go find him then.”

“I’ll join you,” You propose, and she nodded in enthusiasm, abandoning holding her skirts and holding out her arm. You smiled and rolled your eyes playfully, linking your arm with hers.

You say your goodbyes to everyone else, then begin walking forward. You could hear them making comments about something or other, Karkat’s loud voice complaining and Terezi’s cackling laughter replying, and you smiled to yourself.

As you walked into the town’s square, you were painfully aware of everyone’s eyes on you.

No, there eyes weren’t on you. They were on Aradia.

She still was exceedingly dirty, and not to mention holding a tiny skull in her hand. Everyone in town knows that she visits the graveyard about four times a week, and most people didn’t like that. Whispers and murmurs towards her were constantly being supplied, and even some rumors occasionally popped up. Most villagers acted as if they were disgusted by her, and some people seemed like they were even a bit scared of her.

Either Aradia was painfully oblivious, or she just didn’t let it get to her, because she walked through the village with her head held high.

You glance over to her as you pass by the statue of Salem’s founder, and see her smile not once leaving her face. You rarely ever see her without a smile. You wondered why people hated her so much when she was this cheerful. She is a bit odd, yes, but who isn’t a bit odd?

You do know that her mother abandoned her when she was a child after her dad died, leaving them in near poverty. She had her older sister to live with, but you’ve heard that she was rarely around either, although Aradia says that she leaves a sum of money on their doorstep every week. There are a lot rumors about her sister saying that turned into a prostitute. You don’t think it’s true, because they’re rumors, but you weren’t sure. Lots of girls in this town turn to brothels and such after being through a lot, or not having any family. You don’t think that the girls there are horrible disgusting people, because everyone has a story and you’ve learned not to hate people for doing things that may be socially unacceptable, but still. It was just a bit sad, you think.

So, in short, Aradia and her family has been through a lot. And the way she keeps up her optimism and enthusiasm was impressive. You didn’t have any reason to dislike her, so you wonder what is everyone else’s reasoning?

You make it to the vendors market, a street lined with tents and booths holding goods and fine exports straight from Europe. Most of it was cheap and fake, but people still bought them anyway. 

You both looked around, arm in arm, Aradia leading the way. You checked every food vendor you saw, in hopes to find the familiar golden-haired boy.

“Ah!” You heard Aradia pipe, and you feel yourself get pulled to the right. You turn your head to look, and see Dave sitting on a big crate near a wall, eating a caramel apple.

“David!” Aradia exclaimed, promptly letting go of your arm. She ran up to him and brought down the rat skull in two hands, holding it like it was a prized Ethiopian jewel. “Look at this!”

“Woah,” He replies, moving his caramel apple out of the way and leaning in to get a closer look. His dark tinted glasses covered his eyes to an extent, but you could tell he looked fascinated. He wore those spectacles because, apparently, his eyes are extremely sensitive to light, so they have to be in some sort of shade. Luckily the local glasses shop owner was able to find some nice darkened glass to protect his eyes, which you and your friends had rarely ever seen. “That’s so awesome.” He remarks.

Aradia nods proudly, then begins to point out her “favorite parts” of it. You weren’t sure which parts could be her favorite parts, since it’s only a skull, but you guessed she knew more about it than you did. You watch with a small smile on your face, holding your hands together in front of you.

You take the time to glance around the market while your friends were preoccupied, examining the various tents. There usually aren’t this many out, but this season was the most busiest season of the year, and it was understandable that there were more sellers about.

You saw a small table on the corner than was selling yarn, thread, and fabrics, and you mentally reminded yourself to check it out later. You remember you had to get more linen, and some light green yarn. 

There was movement out of the corner of your eye, near the entrance of the vendor’s market. You glance over, look away, then suddenly glance back.

There was two people you hadn’t seen before, which was understandable. There were different kinds of people from all over constantly visiting and moving in, and you see a new face at least twice a month during the cold seasons, and double that during the warm seasons. 

There shouldn’t have been anything special about them, but for some reason, looking at her sent a chill through your spine.

And not in a particularly bad way, but not a good way either.

It was interesting.

One was a tall older lady wearing all white. She collected herself in an almost regal manner, but enough to where she wasn’t too show-offish. She held a small peach embriodered purse with one arm, the other at her side. Her skirts were straight down unlike most mainstream skirts, almost hugging her body, which caught many people’s attention. Her hair was tied up, and her lips were pink and glossy. She seemed like a well-respected woman, almost setting the same air as the Reeve’s wife.

Beside her was a shorter girl, and you guessed she was the lady’s daughter. 

She caught your eye the most.

Opposite from her mother, she wore all black, the contrast collecting even more eyes. Her bodice was elaborate, tied with satin dark purple and deep golden ribbon, with golden floral embellishment adorning her hips. Her skirts were expansive, and you assumed her and her mother were a bit well off. Her clothing was certainly expensive-looking, the matte black and purple trimmings making her a pinpoint of attention. Her hair, however, was silvery and shimmering under the sunlight, a black hairpiece sitting atop her head. Her eyes were dark, as dark as her dress, and especially sultry-looking. She had a small smile on her face as she examined the village, curiosity and fascination held in her eyes. 

She looked stunning, yet terrifying at the same time. 

It was quite intimidating, which made you all the more interested.

“-wonder who that is? Kanaya?” You heard a voice speak behind you. You startle a bit, tearing your eyes off of the girl, and looking towards Aradia.

“Pardon?” You supply.

“Do you know them?” She asks, eyebrow raised, her eyes towards the girl and her mother. 

You crinkle your forehead in confusion. “No. I’ve never seen them before. Why do you ask?” 

“Ah, nothing, just you’ve been looking at them for a while now.” She replies, shrugging. The skull was still sitting in the middle of her palms in front of Dave’s face, who’s attention was switched.

“What are we talking about?” He asked vaguely. “Who’s Kanaya stalking exactly?”

You scoff, your face flustered. “I’m not stalking anybody.”

Aradia points with her thumb towards the newcomers. “They look like they just moved in.” After a thought, she tilts her head in their direction. “They look pretty rich, too.” 

Dave lowers his eyebrows in concentration, lips parted. After a moment, he mutters, “Is that…? No, it couldn’t be. Well, why wouldn’t it be? I mean, she literally looks like her. It’s either actually her or a damned shape-shifter.”

“Wait, what are you saying?” Aradia asks. You both were unperturbed by his talking to himself, as he did it frequently.

Dave jumps a bit, carelessly putting his caramel apple down on the crate as he gets up. “I think I know them.” He says.

“Oh?” You question, to which Dave responds by nodding.

“Yeah. Oh man, that’s my cousin.” He exclaims in bewilderment. “That’s Rose.” He absentmindedly runs a hand through his hair, continuing. “Wow, I haven’t seen her in forever. We were just kids the last time we even saw each other.”

Dave was born in the south, his family coming straight from Spain. He could even speak fluent spanish. He always talked about how his family was fascinated with Europe and the colonies of North America, so they gave him a generically European name like ‘David,' although he goes by the shortened nickname ‘Dave.’ When things got tough down there in terms of money and politics, they began to migrate up north to Salem when he was a really young age, along with some of his other family members. You guessed this Rose might have been one of the family members that joined him. Now that you think about it, they do look somewhat alike. 

You remember Dave indicating that his parents died along the way, although he didn’t say how. Most likely from illness or something along those lines. He didn’t seem put off by it, though, since he barely even knew them. ‘My brother said they were asses anyway,’ he once mentioned, but you could tell he didn’t believe that.

A lot of people in the village saw him as an outlier, because most Spanish settlers went to the east, and not many people wanted to even be friends with him just because of the fact that his parents were from Spain. They didn’t think he belonged here. You thought was horribly ignorant. You and your friend’s were happy to take him in, because he was a pretty nice and funny guy, in all honesty.

“You guys are related?” Aradia piped up. “We should go introduce ourselves! Wouldn’t it be cool to talk to your cousin again, David?”

Dave shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. She might not even recognize me. It would be a bit awkward.”

“Well, I don’t think so.” Aradia regarded. “Family reunions are always nice. I say go for it.”

Dave messed with his hair some more nervously, shrugging again. 

“What if we go with you?” Aradia grinned. “I want to meet them too. They seem nice.”

“I mean, yeah, sure,” Dave replied. “That’s fine. Alright, whatever, lets do it.” 

They began walking forward, and you felt a weight pull you down. You weren’t sure if you wanted to go up to them and meet them just yet, for some reason. Again, they intimidated you. The eyes of the one in the black dress borderline scared you. She was a beautiful terror.

Aradia stopped a moment to look back at you curiously, “Kanaya, are you alright?” 

You nod, and swallow a mouthful of air. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You look sick.” Aradia observes.

You look down at your hands and see them shaking. Why were they shaking? You didn’t feel as if this were such a big deal at all, yet you could barely breathe.

You nod in her direction, trying to catch your breath. “I might need to go home. I don’t know whats wrong.” Your voice was much more shaky than you thought it would be.

Aradia nods in concern. “I can walk to your house with you if you’d like. I could always meet David’s cousin later.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine, trust me. I just need to…” You feel your vision dip suddenly, the corner of your vision becoming blurry. 

“I’ll be back,” You say hurriedly before lifting up your skirts and sprinting in the direction of your house.

Halfway through, you realize you have to pass right by Rose to get back. You wonder if theres a detour, but by now its too late.

You duck your head, hoping they don’t see you. The more closer to them you get, the more nauseous you become. What’s going on with you? 

You quickly walk past them, trying not to look too out of place which seemed next to impossible compared to their attention-grabbing demeanor, but you couldn’t help but feeling everyone’s eyes on you. You try not to pay attention to them, but a pair of dark, dark eyes suddenly grab at you.

You lock eyes with Rose as you pass by her, and it felt as if time slowed. Her eyes held a certain thing, as if she knew something you didn’t. A small beauty mark shown above her lips, which were full in a small smile. Her skin was rich and smooth, her hair shining. A small breath escaped your lips, Rose blinking up at you, eyelashes dark and alluring.

She was the most terrifying thing you’ve ever seen.

Yet you couldn’t look away.

You felt a tremor run through your skull, and you forcibly tore your eyes away, sprinting out of the market as fast as you could.

Those dark eyes seared their way into your brain as you made your way through the square, and you could feel them scorching through your back. 

You pulled your arms into your torso, and your queasiness slowly subsided the farther you walked away, until it became nonexistant.

You could still feel her eyes on the back of your neck as you trudged through the front door of your home.

You had a strong feeling you would be seeing a lot more of her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is sort of a flashback to events that took place before the first chapter.   
> what im gonna do is have every other chapter be a flashback, while present events are in the other chapters.   
> so next chapter is gonna be back to events in the first chapter. and then the chapter after that, it will start right where this chapter left off!   
> i hope u enjoy this i really like writing this


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